Aelantirial's Alchemy

[Maddyn]

Written by GD Kalinda

From afar the two story building didn’t look any different from all the other marble buildings in Ethgan’tor. There was nothing special, nothing extraordinary about it, about the walls made of white marble that was laced with veins of pink. A couple of trees lined the narrow cobblestone path that led up to the door, forming an alley of sorts, casting their shadows on the ground around them. The garden that surrounded the house was neat and well kept. It was filled with flowers, orchids, roses and lilies in red, pink and white and beyond that herbs in all forms that could be used for at least a hundred different purposes. A multitude of smells lingered in the air, a sweet aroma, almost like perfume. For somebody who had never been here before, the smell could be almost overwhelming.

The garden was beautiful, but so were a lot of other gardens. There was no fence, no wall around it, the garden began where the street ended, which was just a bit unusual. People normally had the tendency to mark their property, to show passerbys that what was behind the fence belonged to them, to erect a barrier that kept people from entering without permission. But the owner of this particular house obviously didn’t care about such things – for whatever reason.

From afar the house didn’t look in any way special, but as soon as one came closer one noticed that there was something just a tad bit unusual about it. It was almost as if it was surrounded by an invisible aura, as if a veil that could neither be seen nor touched had been cast over it. It was not a threatening aura, there was nothing that gave the impression that who or what was in there was evil. But neither was it the peaceful, comforting aura that often surrounded temples. It was an aura of mystery. There was something in the air that held great promises, that spoke of something strange and unusual.

The door was not locked. A slight push was all it took to open it and peek inside. The first thing one noticed upon entering was the cold. Inside the house it was cool, almost a bit too cool. The floor was covered with tiles made of white marble that had been polished until they shone. They were like hundreds of little mirrors. There was not much furniture there. Two silver candelabras stood next to the entrance. In the middle of the room a low table surrounded by four chairs made of dark brown wood could be found. A ceramic bowl that was filled with all kinds of exotic fruits was standing on the table. Another door led further into the house. Like the front door it was not locked, it was open, enough that one could see the hallway behind it.

Somebody was coming. The sound of feet on the marble floor could be heard. Somebody was coming closer, somebody was coming from the hallway. It was a woman, a moriquendi of not much more than ninety patterns. She wore her long white hair in a thick braid that reached her knees. Her pale face, while not stunningly beautiful, was pretty. Violet eyes mustered the visitor, her full lips curled into an almost amused smile. She was wearing a simple white linen dress that reacher her ankles and leather sandals. “Are you here to see him? Do you need herbs, potions, healing?” Her voice was smooth, light, musical. “If you would follow me ...”

Through the hallway she walked. The house was quite big, but strangely there were no other people there, it was almost disturbingly empty and quiet. The door in front of which she stopped was made of deep brown wood. Birds were carved into it, parrots, nightingales, owls, eagles – even a vulture – animals that you would never see together in a forest. But the artist – whoever it had been – hadn’t cared about it. With her slender right hand the woman reached for the doorknob and opened the door. “He’s waiting inside ...” she said softly and stepped back.

Unlike the other rooms of the house the room behind this particular door was small – and dark. At first one couldn’t see anything. After a few minutes one could make out various shapes – pieces of furniture – and then finally a person. Behind a round table a man was sitting. He was another moriquendi. He was rather tall, standing at a full 6’5”. His skin was of the pale color that was common to all moriquendi, the hair that cascaded over his shoulders was pure white, like snow. It was of such a pure white that it almost seemed to shine. He was handsome, almost impossibly handsome, even by elven standards he was incredibly attractive. His features were delicate, yet sharp. While his face possessed great beauty it was not in any way feminine. There was nothing about the elf that suggested weakness. His most unusual feature were his eyes. They seemed to be violet at first, but upon closer inspection they turned out to be a strange mixture of colours. They flickered almost blue one moment, only to turn red immediately afterwards.

After a few minutes one could make out several more shapes in the room. The walls were lined with various shelves which contained vials, pots and several small chests. Dried herbs were hanging from the ceiling, creating a rather unique aroma. The strange elf was obviously an alchemist or a healer – and something more. His eyes seemed to pierce one’s very soul, seemed to look deep into one’s heart, finding everything, even the darkest secrets. With a pale white hand he opened a chest that was standing on the table and took something out of it, a deep brown root and let his fingers run over it, almost lovingly, carefully, as if it was a treasure, valuable beyond measure, and not just a simple plant.

“What are you here for?” The elf’s voice was deep and pleasant, smooth, like velvet. “Do you want a glimpse of the future, of the things that lie ahead? Advice? Something to help you with your journey? I have just made a potion that will protect you against most common diseases.” He reached into another chest and removed a small, delicately crafted vial that contained an ice blue liquid, put it onto the table.

“There are certain mixtures that will allow you to breathe underwater. Others will render you invisible. Unlike most people I am not lying. My potions really work. I speak the truth and nothing but the truth …” The moriquendi spoke with pride, with a hint of arrogance, with unmistakeable self confidence. “For just a few crowns you can buy anything …”

[Eir'helm Mithania]

The elf had too much color for most of the natives of this blessed city of light and good grace. His skin was of a distrusted and disliked shade for the children of Phedos who called this home. However as he had been dubbed by one of their own a fool the bard didn't let their concerned looks bind him to fixed quarters. The young Silrosian male didn't hide away from whispers which assaulted and insulted his nature. He tried to act with some measure of restraint even if the image failed on occasion. He tried to be mindful of manners and learn of the city untouched by the empires will.

Ethgan'tor was a hidden treasure among the bile of men, dwarfs and dracons. It was what Silrosia could have been had history been kinder. The streets were wandered, taken in even in the cool damp weather brought on with winter there were traces of beauty. Flowers still managed to blossom even on the edge of one property which felt 'special'.

A single burst of color and fragrance looked up at the city's guest as he passed forcing a pause from the lightborn. The bard halted only to smell from the spiced vessel. In turn stealing the white and red flower, cutting the stem and stripping thorns away with only the edge of his nail it could serve in a sense. The moist bursting was slid over the young mages ear and among his pale blond hair decorating his mundane appearance slightly.

Flowers refused the chill and the small manor called out summoning the near boy. So it was with hardly a concern that knuckles met with the wooden surface that served as a portal softly but to no response and then the lock was tested....

It wasn't sealed and the fool dared to take a step within. He was an outsider, an invader in someones private place and yet the aura touched some curious shade of the youth and a second step followed the first. The door was closed and the setting offered taken in with the slightest self enlightened smile as if alone aware of some humor to the faint magic.

Someone was coming. A young elven woman, hardly his elder it seemed caught the thief of flora. Yet her smile had been disarming and unconcerned with that or the hand which reached to likewise lay an unlawful claim to a morsel of fruit only to be withdrawn.

Eir'helm didn't say a word as the woman addressed him or those violet eyes made some judgement. No the male held his tongue for the better part of some delayed wisdom and followed to the company of her lord, her father?

"I am sorry to invade on your presence. I don't know anything of the potions you speak of though and I don't have any money... I fear. I do have some interest in herbs for pain and a release of the mind. As I do an interest for some knowledge of that which you speak of. I'm only a bard with no tool though..."

[Peach]

Eir'helm's skin was not what offended the man... In fact, the actuality of the situation was far from that. Elves did not gain patterns of knowledge, and even the wisdom of their very ancestors, to discriminate an individual upon such a trivial thing. No, it was not the bard's uncommon coloration, or even the strangely bright clothes that he wore... It was his blood, the very thing that could never be changed. No matter how much he immersed himself in dark elven culture, being relatively polite to all that he dared to speak to, the man could not truly be one of them. Perhaps this was something that the lord Mithania would not want, either... To be Esh'laheir was to contain the hint of death that the light born so utterly despised. This rejection of their ways, the passion that rested inside of their unsteady souls, was what fouled the Silrosian name. In their hearts, the lightlings believed that they were the most perfect beings on Telath... This was, at least, what the pale elves had inevitably come to believe.

It was not the light elves rounded features that Aelantirial's often-changing eyes came to rest upon, or the golden hue of his hair, but the flower nestled in its strands. Certainly, dark elves appreciated beauty, but not many had the bravado to flaunt it so eagerly. For all of his short stay in the city, Eir'helm had likely already realized this in the most superficial of ways. They preferred things that took time to create, crafted by only the most skilled of hands, but so smooth as to be hardly noticeable. The tall man's tunic was a suggestion of this hidden fascination for flawlessness... It was almost purely white, with only the smallest hint of color, and portrayed an elaborate design in stitches of almost the exact same shade. To one so unaccustomed to the ways of the Esh'laheir, such a thing may have seemed hardly necessary. For Aelantirial, however, wearing nature as if it were clothing was even more unbelievable.

Sharp features, arranged in the most faultless of ways, did not betray this emotion. A customer would always be that, especially when they bore the name of a highly-respected family. The pale elf did not doubt Eir'helm's position... Even servants of the Sun House could gain the smallest bit of prestige. Never did he guess that the one standing so plainly before him was any more than a hired hand, made to work for their food and the well being of their souls. To actually become emotionally involved with a light elf could only bring pain, the suffering of disapproval and hate. Aelantirial could sense these feelings set to brew inside of the elf's soul... No matter how optimistic he appeared, Eir'helm's smiling face could bring nothing but pain and self-doubt. To look into his eyes was to bring back the suffering, the realization that all had been for naught. Where was the peace that the earliest Esh'laheir had strived to achieve? Buried within the core of age-old prejudice?

No smile became apparent at the light-born's words, but amusement was certainly present in Aelan's varying eyes. The First House was not so foolish as to send one with no crowns for their errands. Why didn't this man, if he actually was in the noble's favor, simply ask for some of their copious crowns? Maybe he sought something deeper, so valuable that money could not purchase it... The Esh'laheir had some of those things, herbs of the rarest kind, dried and brewed by some of the most skilled hands in Telath. "A release?" Fine eyebrows arched ever so slightly, as he clutched long fingers behind his back. So stereotypical, for one of Eir'helm's kind to be seeking such a thing... Almost laughably so. And yet, even if such kindness was only for an enemy, Aelan did not wish to offend the house Linalantava. If word of his kindness spread, then the business would be looked upon most favorably. A few long steps carried him towards a high shelf, from which the dark elf removed a few vials and pouches. These were, ever so carefully, brought towards the obtrusive customer. "For one of the Sun House, coins do not matter. What, more specifically, do you seek? Here, I have potions that will open the mind's eye, ones that will make any individual relaxed and open. Give me more hints to your purpose..."

[Eir'helm Mithania]

Perhaps the poor male before the mage was faulty for the target of his racial distaste had nothing in truth to the Esh'laheir. They were different, torn away from the sweet children of Silrosia and so perhaps in part lost but then in his age even the old elfhame suffered under the weight of the allerian and human governed empire. The important thing wasn't what they were but what grand things they could be for even the lowest vysstichi had some faint potential which the greatest human could never realize. So the city of marble while alien likewise spoke of a potently of unmeasurable value.

So it was that while Aelan saw an enemy in his company the near boy didn't make that connection. They each used nature in herbs or the materials of dress and each fell from the same place, the same single grain of sand. Still the elder seemed amused with the royal house's newly claimed fool and the child of moonwillow thought it be his slight grace.

The male was even willing to offer him services without fee. It was a rare chance and not one to be either passed up lightly or taken advantage of. He may have personally desired a new spice to touch the mind but his services to the first house and education may well have come first.

"Cousin, if you have some short supply of quality elven leaf I would be in your debt but.... you said you could mange much and that near anything was for sale given crowns. I don't have crowns but I do have a need to an instrument that I can bring before the lord of the sunhouse. If you could lend me aid or insight into who I might ask for such a large boon. Someone who would seek some alternate payment..."

The young bard asked for a great deal from his 'enemy' and knew it and in making some attempt to debase his request asked a following point.

"Is the young woman your daughter?"

[Peach]

He wanted leaf... Such a simple request was almost offensive. Aelantirial was an alchemist with the power to make the most complex of formulas, gathering the rarest herbs to aid him. Why would the elven lord come to him with a request that could have been fulfilled by a simple street merchant? If this mundane drug was truly what Eir'helm wanted, then he should have approached one of his own kind. To give him something so plain would be an insult to the shop and to the Sun House. Oh, the dark haired one would get herb, but Aelan would make sure that it was the finest he had ever ingested. If the First House found that he sold anything but exotic perfection... The Esh'laheir shuddered to think of the negative publicity that he could receive. Clutching the vials and packets in his long-fingered hands, the tall man strode amongst the shelves, searching for a perfect thing. A single pale digit skimmed across the spidery labels that told of what the container held, and a sparse description of its properties.

A frown pulled at the corners of Aelan's mouth as Eir'helm continued with his requests. A long-lived one should have known, by now, that mastery took a rather narrow scope. Spending so much time amongst his concoctions, the man had no spare candlemarks to invest in music. That would be akin to an Archmage wasting their talent to learn how to wield a sword, or the other way around. Was it not enough for the young fool to ask of him a precious brew? Although the lightlings enjoyed to portray themselves as selfless, these words seemed to carry a definite overtone of greed. "If, by instrument, you mean one that a bard plays... Then I cannot help you immediately. I am an Alchemist, my only melody lies within the music of the herbs. The Acadamie Arcana teaches the magic of song, I know. You would probably want to relay this wish to them." Briefly, Aelan turned away from his wondrous plants to fix Eir'helm with a searching eye. If he already bore the crest of the Sun House, then why would he need to appear in front of the King?

There would be no reason for a servant, as the light elf supposedly was, to appeal for favor. Whether they had it or not, they would still remain in service alone. Seeing nothing in the round-featured face, or confused by what was apparent, he turned slowly away. "No, she is not. Cassandra is an apprentice, learning the ways of the Alchemist." A small sound of understanding escaped his lips as Aelantirial's eyes came to a rest upon a medium sized pot of green clay. This would be quite interesting to one so interested in freeing his mind... Two hands wrapped themselves about the hollowed and fired thing of earth, and lifted it carefully from the shelf. All thoughts of Cassandra, it seemed, had already disappeared from the man's mind. That, or he was an adept at hiding emotion... Neither would have been surprising. With more than a touch of pride, he presented Eir'helm with the pot.

"I have heard tales of your kind using this sort of thing." He removed the lid, revealing a substance of a pastel blue color. It smelled of tropical fruits, almost as if it radiated the images of a warmer climate, and sweet spices. "It appears to be one solid color here, but reacting the warmth of say, skin, it has the ability to become a rainbow." Aelan replaced the lid again, presently snuffing the pleasant scent that it carried. "When ingested, it will simultaneously increase energy and open the mind." Once, and if, Eir'helm had taken it for himself, the Esh'laheir man let a pouch of blue cloth dangle from his fingertips. "And here is the leaf that you asked for. Speak kindly of my shop, and they will be repaid."

[Eir'helm Mithania]

Such wondrous toys. By phedos the old elf had such seemingly glorious toys at his disposal that it was both stunning and enthralling to consider just what the pale one could indulge in were he interested. Likewise what manner of sweet vials and insightful potions the Alchemist could offer Silrosia and it's people. Even the name of the girl, his student, this Cassandra pulled a faint smile to the indentured child of moonwillow. What charming things the Esh'lahier were and what kind aid the other male offered his lightborn cousin. The smile Eir'helm wore was forced to become a grin.

All the elder desired was a kind word. Surely he would have his favor with the outsider for the lightborn considered a chorus to sing the herbalist's praises. Yet, he had neither instrument nor tune so instead dared engage in an act of some lacking civility but thanks. The younger man tried to hug his host in thanks as the toys he offered were stored away for later consumption.

[Elestryll Du'laine]

Mid-morning of Brightening 9, Cycle 2 of Immanis
Season of Spring, Era II
Era XI Post Fractum

Elestryll Du'laine walked along the well kept street, his eyes, and nose, searching for his destination. The woman he had asked directions of earlier had told him to follow this street, and then his nose. And soon, he knew what she had spoken of. His nose was bombarded, and nearly overwhelmed, by the sweet aroma's of a beautiful garden.

This must be it. The elf paused momentarily to take in the garden. His beloved had always loved gardens. Shaking the thought from his head, he started up the cobblestone path that led to the door. As he neared, he slowed his stride, fore he felt a strangeness about the place. As if there was a discernible aura surrounding the house. Elestryll merely shrugged this off as he reached the door.

The woman who had directed him here had told him it was permissable to enter without announcement, but, he would do no such thing. He raised his hand and firmly rapped his knuckles on the door, and waited. The door was soon answered by a pretty young woman about his age, who looked him over with an almost amused smile. She beckoned him in, and he followed as she led him down a hallway. The place was quiet, almost unnervingly so, but, he preferred it that way. Finally, his guide stopped before a carved door. "He's waiting inside," she gestured to the door as she stepped back.

Elestryll entered the room, and paused a moment as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. As the room became clearer to his vision, he bowed respectfully to the alchemist. When the alchemist had finished speaking, he revealed his purpose here.

"My name is Elestryll Du'laine. I do not wish to purchase any of your wares, but, instead, I would like to learn your art." Elestryll stood silently, waiting for his hopefully potential teacher's reply.

[Peach]

His chambers contained a plethora of potions and powdered, from things both herbal and supernatural. The scent of it all was almost as overwhelming as what had been present in the garden, fumes that escaped their tight storage making the visiting Esh’laheir’s head light and blurred. Even through this veil of misconception, however, Elestryll could see the ever-changing eyes of the tall alchemist fixed upon his prone form. There was nothing malevolent about the glance, but neither was it approving. Even for one who had been alive for so many years, those depths rife with cold emotion were impossible to read, their shades of meaning as transient as the hues that seemed to shift in the flickering light. Finally, after what had seemed like an age of waiting for the young pale elf, Aelantirial braced his skeletal hands upon his desk and pushed himself upwards.

Smoothly, he began to regard the newcomer once more, one hand idly beginning the twirl a metal whisk in the concoction that he had been working on beforehand. With quick fingers working and multi-colored orbs twitching, he seemed to be made partly out of machine, the perfect creation sculpted by a master gadgeteer. “You wish to learn the ways of alchemy, do you. May I ask why, then? To turn stones into gold?” Although the joke was apparent, there was no light emphasis put upon it. His voice was not a monotone, actually treating the sharp syllables of the dark tongue as if they were the finest of poetry, but the inflections that he put upon each word were generally and unreassuringly ironic.

Granted, poor Elestryll was not receiving any harsher treatment than the common customer. It seemed that pretending to be a statue had been ingrained into Aelan’s spirit, quick vitality buried beneath layers of the finest human clay. The attractive apprentice girl, now standing in an inconspicuous corner, smiled apologetically at the depressed man. While there was nothing that she could have done to remove her master from his apparently permanent state of nonchalance, the young woman always had a feel for connecting with the patrons of the shop. Not that she knew what this one had been through, how immune he likely was to her charms… Yet another price from the ignorance of mortality.

[Elestryll Du'laine]

Elestryll stood silently under the color changing gaze of the alchemist, and doing his best to ignore the myriad fumes assaulting his brain. He had no doubt in his mind that the man had already made his decision. Anything that may follow would be nothing more than formality.

After what seemed to be an age in the overwhelmingly scented room, the alchemist stood. Elestryll's eyes followed the man, more as a distraction from the fumes that now seemed to muddle his mind than anything. “You wish to learn the ways of alchemy, do you. May I ask why, then? To turn stones into gold," the alchemist asked, the joke completely lost on Elestryll. "I have no interest in monetary gains, past what is needed to survive. My reasons are of a more benevolent nature. Or so I hope." The young elf paused before continuing. "I've recently suffered a great loss. A loss that may, in my mind, have been prevented by one with your skills, though that realization came to late to benefit her." Elestryll's gaze drifted momentarily to the young elf girl, appreciating her smile without knowing it's meaning. He turned is gaze back to the alchemist. "I hope that by learning your trade, I may be able to help other's in the way that I may have been helped. Perhaps it is a foolish desire, but, that is my desire nonetheless."

As he spoke, Elesryll could feel the emotions him rising into a state of turmoil, and he struggled to keep them inside. At least for now. Once again his gaze fell on the girl in the corner. She was a pretty thing, and in her innocence she reminded him of his lost Jenna. As his mind finally began to clear, apparently growing use to the fumes, he waited for the alchemists answer.

[Peach]

Aelantirial listened to the newcomer in complete stony silence, as if his entire body had been locked in a sheath of transparent glass. After Elestryll had finished his story, however, the vaguest shadow of a smile flickered across the Alchemists artistic features. While this would not have been a surprise coming from anyone else, it was rather shocking to see any sort of speech provide a sense of amusement. The apprentice girl’s eyes widened momentarily as she studied her master, noticing his veritable outburst even from her corner of the room. Nothing that the guest, and hopeful student had said seemed particularly funny… In fact, the revelation of his loss was rather a rueful thing. It was not wonder that Aelan saw the world differently through his cinnabar eyes than the average being, criticizing each movement as if they were the defining characteristic of one’s soul.

Yes, many Esh’laheir were perceptive and occasionally duplicitous, but the ageless man was all but the pinnacle of this apparently hallow and overly critical existence. When was the last time that a pale elf had done something completely selfless, not one facet of their actions providing some sort of profit? There had to be more behind Elestryll’s explanation, even if that dark shadow was only the debt upon his soul that he felt he had to repay. Either way, if he was simply seeking knowledge for the benefit of mankind or giving benefit to ulterior motives, the explanations for seeking out Aelan’s help seemed to be valid enough. Besides, there were never too many beings seeking to learn the chastened ways of alchemy, the science that had been so rejected by fanatical followers of greedy deities.

Of course, the rarity in which it was practiced gave the art of the earth a sort of mystery that benefited its well-kept secrets, but there had to be watchers who could guard said unspoken variables. “Yes, I will teach you the basics of Alchemy. You may address me as Aelantirial. Return here next brightening at the same time, and I shall have your lessons prepared.” And with that, the master sat back at his desk and returned his full attention to the potions that he was creating, blocking out any response that Elestryll cared to give. To an outsider, it would have seemed odd that he did not wonder about the names of his students… Not so whimsical, though, when one learned of the fact that Aelan did not know his Apprentices’ name until three months into her training.

[Elestryll Du'laine]

Elestryll awaited the alchemists answer. He took note of the man's smile, thinking to himself that he did not seem the type to display such emotion, and a glance to the girl confirmed this. Nevertheless, Elestryll cared little for the mans inner thoughts, only for his answer. Either he would accept the young man as an apprentice, or he wouldn't. So, he remained silent and waited.

Finally the alchemist announced Elestryll's acceptance, and simply sat down, turning his attention back to his work, leaving Elestryll to his own thoughts. The young elf bowed his head to the alchemist, Thank you, Aelantirial. Until tomorrow." With that, he turned, nodded to the girl, and headed for the door.

ooc: Do you want me to post here, or start a new thread for training?

[Laroa Linalantava]

Summer of Era X in the Age of the Darkening


„Esmene, do you know if there is an alchemist in the city, a master alchemist?“ The Lady Laroa Linalantava was sitting in her chamber in the royal palace, reading a book about politics and the laws of Ethgan’tor. She had been away from the city for too long and had never really been interested in the inner workings of her home before. Politics were in her blood to some extent – everything in the marble city was about politics, about conflicts, hostilities and alliances – but the finer points of it had escaped her until now. She had been the second child, the sister to the heir, the rebel who had tried to find her luck outside of Ethgan’tor. In the end she had realized that the marble city was the only true place for her, the only place where she would find happiness.

„There is one …“ The thaumaturgist – one of the bodyguards that had been given to her by the king – approached her and took a seat opposite of her. The princess’ study was small, a room surrounded by walls made of white and pink marble. A delicate round table of pure white stood in its center, surrounded by four comfortable chairs. Bookshelves lined the walls. There was a desk as well, but it was currently empty – just like the fireplace in the corner. It was summer, and thus there was no need for a fire. Laroa’s pet, a large white tiger, was at his mistress’ side at usual. The animal was lying next to the table. He had not left her side since she had found him on that beach between Arakamat and Arium all those months ago.

Esmene was young, a pretty little thing with silver white hair and dark brown eyes. She was an apprentice in her sphere. „His name is Aelan.“ She paused for a moment and looked at the woman she served. The holy mage had no clue that her mistress had once been a necromancer, that she had had a lightborn lover and served Jorel. She did not know how her daughter had died or that she had a second child, a child that she had left a long time ago. For her Laroa was the embodiment of the Esh’lahierian way of life and good for the city. „He’s odd. You will see what I mean when you meet him. But they say he’s talented …“ She arched an eyebrow and looked at the older woman questioningly.

„I’ve dabbled into alchemy when I was away from the city,“ Laroa explained. „I found it … interesting. I need a distraction, a contrast to my training in arcana. You are going to take me to this Aelan …“ Alchemy meant power. It was mysterious. She knew that alchemists had means and ways to protect themselves from diseases, to curse others, to inflict pain and heal at the same time. She wanted to uncover a bit of that mystery, just a little bit. Arcana came harder to her than before. Maybe this here would be different.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

They travelled to the alchemist’s house in a small carriage. Laroa’s face was covered by a thin veil made of white lace, not so much out of a desire to be mysterious and keep her identity hidden, but out of necessity. Iseril had blinded her. Manna, the Bishop of Carmelya, had healed her, but her eyes had become rather sensitive to the light, almost like the eyes of a vysstichi. The veil made sure that she was not in pain when she was outside during the brightening. A dress of white and silver completed her outfit. Her only weapon was a small dagger.

She stopped in front of the marble building for a moment, bent down and smelled the flowers. There was something strange about this place, something she could not quite define. It seemed different from the rest of Ethgan’tor. Was this Aelan not only an alchemist, but also a mage? She had had her share of experiences with arcana – some good and some bad. It made her careful. She made her way into the house slowly, lifting the veil as she did so. There was no need for it inside. The candlelight would not hurt her eyes.

The young thaumaturgist followed her and stood at the side of the door as if she was not really there at all. She said nothing as the alchemist’s servant approached. „I need to talk to Master Aelan,“ Laroa said. „I want to discuss something with him. Is he at home?“

[Malkaer Andares]

Timestamp: Ioannolia of the second cycle of Junctior, Autumn of Era III of the Celestine Mandate, Era XII PF

If he was not dearly mistaking, this was the place. With a bit of hesitation Malkaer walked into the garden, still not entirely certain whether this place belonged to the famous esh'lahier alchemist. Men who practiced that profession, although genuises in their field of knowledge, were often more foolish than a child in other matters. Such as making your shop better known, for many people would walk by the place without knowing what lay inside. On the other hand, all that had truly need of the man's services would find him. Eth'gantor was a static place; after a few centuries an inhabitant would know where everything was.

Malkaer knocked softly on the door before pushing it open. Although the coldness gave him goosebumps, he did not mind the temperature. The room was obviously arranged as some sort of waiting room. The esh'lahier took place in a chair which gave him as much view over the escape routes as possible- a leftover from his military days. After a short time of waiting Malkaer was picked up by the girl and followed her through the house. The esh'lahier enjoyed the modest grandeur of the house, it's calmness.

After a route through the empty manor he was brought before a door and finally, the man himself. "Vedui, master alchemist." Malkaer inclined his head, almost bowed. The various items the potionmaker mentioned made him raise his eyebrow, but there was nothing between it the nobleman required. "I have a problem I was hoping you could help me with.." Malkaer started. "A... rat problem."

[Shio]

The young apprentice stole forward, quiet as a mouse, her pretty face marred with unlifting shadows. Another gray elf, and likely noble at that... She shouldn't have expected any more. Another Esh'laheir, but not him, not the bewitched Aelantirial. "I apologize, but the master has been out, dealing with the houses... Our connection to the outside world has been fading... It troubles the city." Aelana closed her dark violet eyes, delicate fingers brushing over the dusty jars, the tabletops. Old, but still valid, their natural toxicity travelling in a sickening pulse. Poison. What she hated, in what she was trained -- it was all that was left.

"A rat problem... You mean to be rid of the rats that infest your house?" Her nose wrinkled a bit; there wasn't much in the city for vermin to feed on, its marble surfaces scrubbed sanitary. Sterile. "No matter. I have been trained in all matters of plague, both herbal and arcane. You could purchase such poison almost anywhere, but I suppose... Overkill never hurt anyone." She beckoned Malkaer from the chair with a crooked finger, disappearing behind a curtain of curly white hair.

Bottles of powder, vials of liquid, and jars of rocky stone stretched before them, each article looking stranger than the next. Their contents swirled with color or stayed a stagnant gray, like the mist of the twilight. "Shall you provide me more insight into the nature of this problem?"

~~

ooc: peer modding per request (:

[Malkaer Andares]

The noble paused. The master was away, that did not bode well. To be stuck with an apprentice with such a delicate issue. Malkaer pondered excusing himself to return another brightening. His request had no rush, there was no immediate need for the supplies. "Fading?" He remarked. With some hesitation he caught up to the apprentice again. Gaining a little bit of information was never bad.

His eyes followed her fingers, not aware of the intensity of the fatal brews. The pale elf would be surprised if the fluids inside still had the same potency as the brightening they were created. Malkaer grinned as the girl gave up on her skills. He was inclined to believe her; even the master's apprentice would be better than many human herbologists or alchemists.

"Ah yes, it is a terrible problem. I'm troubled by several large rats. Really large ones..." Malkaer started. "Why some of them even walk on two feet like us esh'lahier.." A small smile formed on his lips, but his gaze gave away that he was extremely serious. Killing rats with Aelantirial's poisons, that was truly a waste.



OOC: Many thanks Shio =)